


The Sword of House Dylan

by whiteraven1606



Category: Original Work
Genre: Books, Multi, Poverty, Rape/Non-con References, Swords & Fencing, medieval era
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-06
Updated: 2013-04-07
Packaged: 2017-12-07 17:03:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/750918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiteraven1606/pseuds/whiteraven1606
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Legends must begin somewhere, and for the Sword of House Dylan, legend starts in a tavern.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Adaquinn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adaquinn/gifts).



> Original work that I am thinking about publishing as an ebook when it is finished. 
> 
> Written from a branch of a situation that Adaquinn gave me. The situation she wants written is 300 or so years in the future from this, but this is the easier to write at the moment because she'd has not told me all she wants to happen in the future part yet.

****

Rachel sighed as the Mistress bellowed. "Coming!" She rolled Master Anderson onto his side and took the rest of the money from his pouch where it hung over the end of the bed. She tucked the money deep into the side of her binder under her left arm.

Hurrying down the stairs, Rachel poked Marcus in the side as she passed him. "Master Anderson is done for the night. He's too heavy for me to clear him out, yeah?"

Marcus nodded and started to lumber up the stairs to clear out Rachel's work room.

Rachel found the Mistress kneading the dough for the bread tomorrow. "Yes, Mistress?"

Mistress looked her up and down with narrowed eyes. "You're alright, aren't ye girl?"

Rachel nodded. "He didn't hurt me." She held out several coins. "Paid me well for my service."

Mistress counted the coins and handed her back the smallest one. "You do good work, girl. Take this and go get you something pretty in the morning. The rest of your coin comes to me tonight."

Rachel bobbed a curtsey. "Of course, Mistress."

"Back to work."

Rachel ducked out of the kitchen into the bar room. The drunkards were deep in their cups and Rachel hauled filled tankards out and empties back up to the Andrew behind the bar. She worked until she found a likely man who didn't look like he was ill or so drunk he'd attempt to hurt her. Just drunk enough to be fumbly and forgetful as to how much coin lining his pockets that he'd gone up the stairs with.

It didn't take anything to get him intrested in her. Rachel leaned in a little and smiled prettily at him. "Services are...extended here."

He grinned and downed the dregs of his tankard. "I'd like a sample."

Rachel straightened up and started to back away slowly, smiling with her head tilted all the while. "Samples are not free, good sir."

The man stood, swaying slightly. He held up a coin. "I can pay."

Rachel flicked her hair over her shoulder. "Then follow me."

He boosted to his tablemates for a few moments as Rachel slipped across the bar room to stand at the base of the stairs with Marcus. "My work room is cleared?"

Marcus nodded. "Worried about this one?"

She shook her head. "Don't think so. He's probably too far gone to make his sword hit his target."

Marcus snorted. "Looks it, yeah. You want me in the hallway just in case?"

Rachel beamed at the drunk as he started to stagger over. "If it won't get you in trouble with Mistress."

Marcus shrugged. "Don't care. I can come down to break up a fight if I need to."

Rachel nodded and let the man drape himself on her. The heavy bastard was floppy in that way that told Rachel she'd be able to roll him for all he was worth. "Come on, love. Let's see what we can do for you, eh?"

****

As the dawn light brightened through the cracks in the wall, Rachel began to unwind her binder cloth. Carefully catching each coin or shiny bit she'd taken in the night, Rachel hid them under the single blanket on her pallet until she'd unbound herself and could count it all in one go. 

She sorted the coins out and slipped the big coins into the hem pockets she'd sewn in her market day dress. The small coins she devied up between herself and the coins to go to Marcus and Andrew to help keep her safe during her work. The three rings she'd slipped off fingers would require different handling so she tucked those into her boot.

Washing again, Rachel watched the morning dawn bright and clear. She yawned and settled on her pallet.

Rest wasn't easy or quick in coming. Rachel sighed and gave it up as a lost cause. She got back up, washed again with her little bucket of water she'd pumped herself the night before, and then pulled on her not-for-market-day dress. 

Pulling her hair up, Rachel slipped her feet into her boots, nudging the rings forward so they'd not be under her sole when she walked. Rachel went out into the streets as the city began waking up.

****

The shops were starting to open as Rachel paid a half a coin for a meat pie at the corner baker. She ate with quick bites as she quickened her pace. If she could make the late bell she could get into the Library before the doors were locked for the day's learning.

She nodded to Father Ascot as she went in the side enterance. "Do I owe you today, Father?"

He shook his head. "You are no trouble, child. Just stay out of the Bishop's sight."

Rachel nodded and hurried down the hallway to the oldest record room the Father would allow her in unattended. She swallowed her last bite of food and went looking at the tomes on the shelves. She trailed her hand along the spines and smiled at the fanicful bindings on the ones that turned out to be the most boring.

In the back most corner, Rachel reached the shelf she was on. She knelt down and picked up the next book, the one she would start today. She flipped it open and stared at the drawings of men. Men in pairs, stances, notes, swords, and knives were all carefully inked into the vellium.

Rachel frowned and cocked her head at the way the stance of the man was drawn, so odd with the one foot far down the page from his other foot. She closed the book and stood up, glancing around. 

Rachel went back out of the room and headed down the hall to the book repair room. She headed for the back of the room, ignoring the monk working on rebinding some book, just as he ignored her comings and goings. She settled into the tiny supply room at the back, under the small window that would give her light until the early afternoon.

Rachel started reading, carefully sounding out the words. She pulled down her scrap of vellium and wrote out the words she didn't understand as she read.

****

Rachel stood and stretched as the afternoon light faded. What little sleep she'd gotten would be all she'd be able to get today. She frowned at the book. The stances were for fighting with swords and knives and Rachel wondered why the writers had made them all with their legs the wrong lengths. 

She tucked the book into her dress and settled it on her stomach. Pulling off her boot, Rachel picked the oldest of the rings she had and tucked that into her belt. She headed back out through the reapir room which was empty for the afternoon prayers. The Library would be unlocked now that the day's learning was done. 

The side door she used to leave most days was quiet as she pushed it open onto the bustle of the candlemakers' street. Rachel made sure the door caught as she closed it. Then, she headed for the jewerly street. She went to the big Guildhouse building at the corner of the street.

Stepping inside, she mader herself small and widened her eyes. "Mister?"

One of the appriencties, new to her, they always were, frowned. "Can I help you?"

She held out the ring, dirty from the time it had been in her boot. "I found this along the street."

His eyebrows went up and he took the ring and cleaned it off. "Oh. Hold here for a moment, yes?"

She nodded and waited as the apprencite went to the Journyman and they talked. 

The Journeyman came over to the counter. "There's a reward for the safe return of this." He held out a wooden carved seal. "Take this to the Bankhouse on the corner of Swan and Lakehouse. Do you know where that is?"

She nodded and took the seal. She bobbed a courstey. "Thank ye." She hurried out before they could ask her where she'd found the ring because she didn't remember which man she'd taken it from to be able to give the right part of the city in answer.

The Bankhouse was tall and impossing. Rachel touched the book against her stomach and went in the simplest door she could find.

Exchanging the seal for coin was quick and a little boring. Rachel tucked all the newly gotten coin into her bindings and headed back out.

****

The tavern was just opening as she got there. She nodded to Marcus and made sure Mistress saw her before hurrying into her tiny room behind the storeroom to change. She tucked her borrowed book under her pallett, wrapped in a scrap of cloth. She fished the coins out of her bindings and put them in their places in her market day dress and refolded it into the box she kept it in.

Rachel shrugged on her tight tunic and shook out her skirts. She brushed and rebraided her hair into a loose braid that couldn't easily be used to yank on her head. Checking that her skirts showed her ankles, Rachel headed for the kitchen to help put out the breadbowls for the soup.

Mistress nodded to her as she stacked breadbowls. "Ready to work, girl?"

Rachel nodded and went to filling the first round of tankards. She worked in the bar room steadily until the first rowdy drunk started yelling. Rachel hurried by Marcus and up the stairs enough she was out of the way as Marcus headed for the fight. Rachel bit her lip as one of the fighter's pulled his sword.

She watched as he held off Marcus and Andrew as he yelled at them all. Then, she cocked her head as he slid into a fighting stance. "Oh." The stances in the book were showing how the person would stand as if they were captured on the page. Rachel gasped as the man slashed Andrew with his blade.

Hurrying on up the stairs, Rachel went out the window at the top of the stairs onto the roof overhang.

"Watch! Help!" She drew a deep breathe and screamed at the top of her voice. The bells of the Watch began to ring, so Rachel screamed again for good measure and headed back inside. She skipped stairs as she went back down until she could see the bar room again.

Andrew as holding his bleeding arm and screaming at the drunk. Marcus had knocked out the drunk's friends. They laid sprawled across the floor around the stand off. The rest of the patrons were staring or busily eating as they stared.

The Watch arrived and Marcus helped them talk the drunk into putting down his sword. The whole group's pockets were emptied and paid to Mistress before they were hauled away by the Watch.

Rachel could just see the edge of a hilt along the far wall, under the corner table. No one had noticed it to take it. She kept it in the corner of her eye all night. She checked for it each time she came down the stairs from working.

As the last patron was pitched out by Marcus, Mistress clicked over Andrew's wound.

"Ye best be looking after that. I'll not see you lose an arm, lad."

Andrew nodded. "I'll send my brother John to work tonight."

Mistress nodded and clapped Andrew on the arm.

Rachel waited for them to go into the kitchen before grabbing up the sword and hurrying up to her work room. She hid the sword under the bed and headed back down.

****

Rachel hated when John worked. He was nothing like his brother. Where Andrew would help Rachel with the heavy times, John would yell at her to move faster. Then there was the problem he became at the end of the night.

When all Rachel wanted was to wash and fall asleep, John would try to corner her as he was doing now.

"Your services should be free to coworkers, right? I've seen how you touch Marcus, little girl."

Rachel leaned back and frowned. "Mistress doesn't allow this and you've been told so before, John."

He grinned. "I don't take no orders from a woman."

Rachel turned her head at the smell of his breath. "I'll scream, John."

He backed up a little. "I don't think so. Not this time."

She only got as far as drawing half a breathe before he struck her in the head.

****

Rachel moaned and stared down at the floor of her work room. "Wha..."

John's foul breathe was in her face as he laid over her. "Going to work for me now, little girl."

Rachel squirmed, but his weight held her down, his hand pressing on her back, forcing her stomach into the edge of the bed made it impossible for her to draw breathe enough to scream. She flailed, trying to get away.

Her fingertips brushed the hilt of the sword she'd hidden. Rachel felt John trying to work her skirts down, trying to force them over her hips where she wore them tight around her waist. She grabbed the sword and pulled on it.

It was so very heavy, but Rachel was determined. She brought it up and let the weight of it drop it on John.

He roared and the weight on her dissappeared. Rachel slithered off the bed and turned to find, John holding his wrist where his hand used to be. Rachel wrapped her hands around the sword hilt and brought it up between them.

"Leave me alone."

He ran at her and Rachel started to drop the sword, but John ran himself right onto it.

Rachel whimpered and pushed at him with her shoulder. John fell down to the floor and bleed across the boards.

Rachel wiped the sword off on the sheets of her work bed before she fled down the stairs.

She pushed past Mistress in the kitchen, through the storeroom to her pallet. Rachel grabbed up her dress box and shoved the book into that. She threw on her sleep tunic and then the not-market-day dress. Rachel grabbed up sword and hurried back out.

The kitchen was deserted and Rachel went out the back door into the early morning.

****

Hiding in the Library all the time was far easier than Rachel would have thought. She knew the monks' movements because they never seemed to deviate from day to day. The patrons only came in during the afternoon on bright sunny days. Those learning only came in the mornings until the noon meal.

Rachel simply hid in the afternoons, walked carefully in the mornings, and made sure her hair was cut short so from a distance she simply looked like a plain lower son come to learn at the monks' feet.

She'd found a room in the upper floors unused, dusty, and barren. Rachel had turned it into her room. She used the book she'd borrowed to learn with her sword. She used the dirt on the floor to check the placement of her feet as she worked on the stances.

Rachel wiped her hand across her forehead as she checked the big clock on the top spire of the Library. It was nearly time for food. She wiped down the sword and stored it in the compartment she'd found in the wall to the right of the door.

Donning the dirty tunic, Rachel rubbed dirt into her face and arms where they were visible. Rachel went out the door and used the key she'd fashioned to lock it behind her. She hid the key down the hall and went to the tiny staircase at the end of the hallway.

Once on the ground floor, Rachel slipped out the coal door to the alley and around the corner to join the line of the poor.

The monks feed all comers and it was always simple fare, but hot. Rachel kept her head tucked down and obetiently washed her hands and face in the pan of water before being handed a roll. She took the nearly rotten apple she was handed next and tucked them both into her tunic. Next came the wooden bowl with thin soup.

Rachel took her food to one of the benches and squeezed in between two street rats to sit. The prayer was said and everyone was allowed to eat. Rachel tucked in quickly, making sure not to elbow anyone as she held her bowl close.

At the front of the room, Father Ascot and the Bishop were introducing the patron of the day. Rachel glanced at them and then froze staring.

The crest on the halberds of the patron's followers was the same as the hilt of Rachel's sword. She swallowed as she studied the men in the group. None of them were the ones in the group that had lost the sword.

The Bishop smiled at them all. "The House Dylan has decided to bless one of you."

Rachel traded looks with the street rats.

"The Lady of the House will come amongst you and choose one for fostering in House Dylan. It is a great honor..."

Rachel mentally cursed. She tucked into her roll and eyed the doors. There were monks or followers of the House at each, there was no easy escape. Rachel looked to the lifting shaft behind the food line. They'd already closed the doors and latched them. She was well and truly trapped.

The Lady was bueatiful, her long hair braided about her head, her dress long and flowing. She moved slowly as she walked down the first aisle. The mutters in the room rose as people reailized the Bishop meant it, that someone would be choosen to foster to the House.

Rachel kept one eye on the Lady as she tucked into her bowl of soup. Her hope rose as the Lady stopped to touch the head of a boy along the end of the second row.

With a shake of her head, the Lady moved on. Rachel kept her head down at the Lady started down her row. The touch to her hair was soft, light, and careful. The Lady looked down at her as Rachel turned to look up.

The Lady lifted her eyebrows. "Your age?"

Rachel shrugged. "Near to adult, m'lady."

She lifted the corners of her mouth and ghosted her hand down to Rachel's shoulder. "Younger than that, I think." She turned towards the front of the room. "I choose this one."

Rachel shook her head. "Oh, no, no. Uhm, wouldn't you like one of them better." She gestured to the street rats on either side of her that were edging away.

The Lady cocked her head. "Oh, no. I think not." She leaned forward. "Do not make me require my men carry you." She lifted her eyebrows again.

Rachel stuffed the last of her apple into her mouth and nodded. "Is it possible I get my things, m'lady?"

The Lady snapped her fingers and one of the younger followers appeared at her elbow. "Ethan, you will accompany our new fosterling so that any _and all_ belongings are brought along."

Ethan nodded sharply. "Come along, boy."

Rachel sized him up as she got up from the bench. She could probably outrun him given enough turns. He followed her out of the Library and she stood at the corner deciding where to lead him.

Ethan grabbed her arm. "Don't hare off. I promise your life in the House will be better than any on the street."

Rachel leaned away from him. "Let me go."

"No." Ethan sighed. "Look, I understand your fear. I was you not that long ago. I was fostered into the House. They fed me, taught me to read and figure. I can fight now like any trained knight. This is what she's offering you. They even put you into the big book of family."

Rachel pulled harder. "She doesn't know what I've done or anything about me."

"She doesn't care." Ethan leaned in. "I promise you the House doesn't care what you were, only what they can make of you."

Rachel bit her lip and finally nodded. She started for the alley and Ethan followed, not letting her go. She stopped at the side door she'd modified to get back in after dark when it should be locked tight. "You won't tell Father Ascot?"

Ethan frowned at her. "No."

She nodded and tripped the door to open. Ethan snorted and followed her in. She led them up the tiny stairs to her floor. "Wait here."

"Oh, no." Ethan's hand tightened on her arm. "I go with you."

Rachel rubbed the short hair above her ear with her free hand. "I...I don't think they'll want me if you see my room."

Ethan shook his head. "I do not report on what you take or leave behind, boy."

Rachel huffed and went up on tip-toe to reach her room key. She unlocked the room and took several breathes before she pushed the door open.

Ethan crowded in behind her as Rachel stepped inside. "See it isn't..." He stared at her market dress hanging in the corner.

Rachel kicked the door closed and listened to the lock click. "I'm a girl."

Ethan's hand didn't slacken as he nodded. "I was begining to suspect that."

Rachel shook her arm and Ethan let her go. "You see why I can't go now."

"Oh, no. You gather up..." He waved at her dress. "...everything and we go."

"Everything?" Rachel stepped closer and frowned up at him. "And if I said I had a sword. When I shouldn't bear anything longer than a dirk, I have a sword. What then? Would you say bring it along?"

Ethan smiled. "Depends on the crest. Is it an enemy of the House? If it is we'd need to file it down."

Rachel whirled away and stomped over to her market dress. She took the hem into her hand and felt for her coins. "I'm not worth..."

"Stop right there." Ethan touched the sleeve of her dress. "Gather your things. Possible sword included. You come along and spend a month in the House. If you don't like it after a month the Lady will see you to the gates herself."

Rachel fingered her coins for a moment before nodding. "Alright."

Decision made, Rachel swiftly gathered her clothes, cleanest inside the dirty, the book of fighting, the second book of history she'd borrowed just the day before, and finally the sword. She held the bundle to her chest as she stood before Ethan.

"You promise they won't have me in the stocks?"

Ethan touched the crest on the sword. "No, they most certainly won't have you in the stocks or any cells." He bowed to her. "I give you my honor on that."

Rachel bit her lip as she nodded. "Accepted."

****


	2. Chapter 2

****

Rachel wasn't expecting to be put in the coach with the Lady herself. She blinked and nudged her bundle of belongings further back under her feet.

The Lady studied the sword Rachel had allowed Ethan to take only after she realized how awed he'd been when he was looking at it. Ethan had handed it right over to the Lady as soon as the coach doors had shut them in.

Rachel shifted as the coach started to move.

The Lady glanced up at her and smiled. "Well, I'm even more pleased with my choice in you."

Rachel bit her lip and looked to Ethan, who was sitting at the other end of the bench. "I still don't think you should have picked me. Why me?"

Ethan leaned forward. "She was practicing with it, my lady. You could see the footsteps in the dirt of her room."

Rachel stared at Ethan, horrified.

The Lady smiled and slipped the sword into a holder along the end of her bench. "I thought your arms were well honed."

"Uhm..."

The Lady waved her hand at them. "I don't care. We'll leave you male to the eyes of most of the House. Only Ethan, Kieran, and myself will know you are a female. I'll see you into armor, child, don't you worry."

"Armor?" Rachel looked from one to the other. "It is King's Law that women can't bear arms. That we aren't allowed any training at all. What are you thinking?"

The Lady leaned back as the coach gained speed. "I think you are already breaking King's Law. I think that you will do well in my House." She leaned forward. "I think you can change the world."

Rachel shook her head. "I'm one person. One. How am I to change the whole of the world?"

The Lady smirked. "We shall see, won't we?"

Rachel thumped her head back against the wall of the coach. "You are all insane."

"That remains to be seen, as well." The Lady extended her hand. "I am Lady Mairead Dylan, wife of the Lord Dylan, General of the King's Second Army."

Rachel looked from the Lady's extended hand to her face and back. She took it in hers and bowed forward over it. "It is a pleasure to be in your presence, m'lady."

The Lady gave her a wide smile and dropped her hand to her lap. "What is your proper name?"

"Rachel of Brendan's Tavern on Port Street."

With a nod, the Lady waved at her. "And the name we will call you as a boy?"

Rachel bit her lip and shrugged. "I have no name ready, m'lady."

Ethan nudged her knee with his foot. "What do you think of Ryan? Ryan, son of Liam of Fort Wall."

The Lady's eyebrows went up. "You know I have never chosen siblings before, Ethan."

Ethan shrugged. "No one but you remembers where I came from, my lady."

"Quite true." The Lady looked at Rachel. "What do you think?"

Rachel braced herself as the coach took a turn and slowed as it clattered across a bridge. "I can answer to Ryan, yes."

They both nodded and the rest of the ride was spent in silence.

****

Rachel wasn't sure what to make of Kieran. Ethan had said he was the Head of the Household, something Ethan called a Steward. He was a tall older man, his bearing was weary with an edge of annoyed with everyone that Rachel normally would have liked to be able to sit back and watch awhile. Having him tut over the state of her belongings wasn't quite as fun though.

"And this?" Kieran held up her market dress.

Rachel refrained from grabbing at it by a bare thread of self-control. "My market dress."

Kieran peered over the held up garment at her. "It is heavier than the heaviest winter dress of the Lady's, you do realize that with this fabric that is actually impossible."

Rachel did grab for her dress then. "Please. I earned them."

Kieran's eyebrows rose. "Ah." He held the dress out for her to take, which she did with quick hands. "Very well. I suppose I'll need to build coin runs into all your clothing?"

Rachel clutched her dress to herself. "Coin runs?"

Kieran looked up from her bundle of clothing. "Yes, the channels you sewed in for your coins. I do assume you sewed them."

Nodding, Rachel watched him sniff over the state of her sleeping tunic. "Yes, I sewed them. I needed someplace out of sight."

"Of course." Kieran waved his hand at the lone chair in the room. "Stand up on that. We need to take your measure."

Rachel bit her lip and gingerly stepped up on the chair. "I don't understand. My measure?"

Kieran took a knotted string from his pocket and wrapped it around her wrist. "Your measure tells the clothes maker how to fit your finery without you there to grub it up before it is sewn and finished."

"Finery?" Rachel jerked as he put one end of the measure on her backside. "I don't need finery."

With a huff, Kieran came around to her front. "Everyone in this House needs finery. Yours won't be terribly fine, You won't need to worry about losing beads or stones or whatnot. You'll wear properly sized clothes and shoes to the important feasts."

She wiggled her toes against the rings in the toe of her shoe. "I like my boots."

"The wonder of you not falling down in those boots will never cease to amaze me. Off with them."

Rachel dropped down off the chair and took off her boots.

"Such small feet. Lovely." He inspected her toenails. "You've taken care of yourself. I am happy her Ladyship picked one I don't have to teach to bath this time."

Rachel frowned as he put a thin sheet of wood under her foot. "You've had to teach people how to bath?"

Kieran tapped on her heel. "Stand up so the tracing will be sound." He glanced up at her as he reached for a stick of charcoal. "Yes, on occasion. Her Ladyship picks two or three a year to foster in the House. It is a tradition passed on from her mother and her mother's mother."

Rachel switched feet and watched him trace around that foot too. "Do they all stay here?"

He lifted the wood up and studied it. "No. Most become men-at-arms. They die in wars when we have them, farm and train when we don't, and have babies."

Rachel stuffed her feet back into her boots. "I don't want to have babies."

Kieran sat the charcoal down and looked at her. "You understand your moon cycles? Please tell me that you do."

"Yes." She frowned. "Please tell me you haven't had to explain that to anyone."

With a smile, he beckoned her to follow him out of the room. "Yes actually I have. Fosters are always male and they'll stick their swords into anything without thought of babies." They went down a hallway and through another door.

"Oh." Rachel looked over the laundry operation they'd entered. "Am I going to work here?"

Kieran chuckled. "No, Ryan. You are getting your training clothes."

Rachel followed Kieran to a row of baskets. She peered into them, piles of mud colored cloth were ranged in each one. Kieran went down the row until he stopped at a basket with a green ribbon tied to the handle.

"Ah, here we are." He pulled tunics and pants from the pile, throwing them to her to catch. "There is a spot of green thread sewn into the right hip of the pants and at the bottom of the right side of the hem of the tunics. That is your size color until you out grow this size. Next up in size is blue. I trust you can change when you need to do so."

Rachel looked down the line at the colors of ribbons on each basket. "Why is the cloth mud colored?"

Kieran turned and looked at her. "What do you think boys train at if they are to go to war?"

"Fighting?"

"Yes, and where does fighting happen, exactly?"

Rachel looked down at the pile of clothing in her arms. "Dirt and mud."

"Yes." Kieran pushed her ahead of him through the next door. "Do not come in here or the laundry without orders from myself or my sister, the Head of Kitchens, Lauren." He pointed at a thin woman along the far wall, scrubbing pots. "Each day of rest the washed clothing is sat out at supper and you put the dirty into the big basket at the end of the row and find your color size to take clean from. You take the same amount as you leave, understand?"

Rachel waved back as Lauren waved a washcloth at them. "Yes, I understand."

Kieran pushed her on out another door to the outside. "The ovens for the kitchens heat the water for the laundry as well. If you see two spouts for water and one is ringed in blue then the other is warm or hot water. It depends on how far the water has to travel from the heat."

Rachel stared up at the barn in front of them. "Hot water? Really? That's so rare." They entered the barn and Rachel blinked as she realized they weren't in a barn, but a barracks.

Kieran lead her to stairs and they went up to the fourth floor. "Your door is green and white. See?"

Rachel touched the green and white squares nailed to the edge of the doorjamb. "Mine?"

"You'll share with Ethan. Everyone bunks with at least one other and we can't give anyone reason to look twice at you if we're to get you through training."

Rachel stared at the twin beds, each with their own chests at the foot. Shelves along two of the walls. "Ethan doesn't already live here?"

Kieran opened the chest and took her bundle from under his arm to set in the chest. He closed it with a snap. "He was living one floor down until now. Do not ask after his old roommate, if you please."

Rachel nodded and let Kieran take the clothing from her arms. He folded them neatly and put them on her shelves.

"There. Dinner will be at dusk as it is always served. You break your fast in the morning at dawn or after training if you are a lazy bed bug." Kieran nudged her to sit on her bed. "You will make the bed every morning or you will lose your extra ration privileges."

Rachel just nodded and clutched at Kieran's sleeve. "I don't want to endanger anyone. I can scrub pots or wash clothing instead."

"Ethan said you were studying the book of fighting I saw in your belongings."

She nodded as Kieran sank to sit on the edge of her bed with her.

Kieran nodded. "That book is old. The knowledge within is a form of fighting no one uses. Now everyone is very formal. Bowing and carefully timed feints that are more for show than surviving." He waved his hands around as he spoke. "Not that this is bad, mind you. Our country has been at peace for decades. Long enough to forget the horror of war."

Rachel bit her lip. "The book says to incapacitate your enemy by any means necessary. That it is either you or them and you want it to be you."

"Yes, exactly." Kieran patted her on her shoulder. "You stick to your book. You'll have a harder time, more yelling at you, but...I want to see this House live, yes?"

Rachel nodded and watched Kieran leave.

****

Ethan sat down at his Ladyship's feet. "You are sure about this? Lord Dylan will not be pleased when he sees a woman has been trained."

She threaded her fingers through his hair. "He is not here to see it, is he?" She hummed as she found a tangle. "No one wishes to say it, but we are going to have a war on our hands within a decade. I'd rather be able to replace the officers that die with clever thinkers that are loyal to me."

"She isn't going to be loyal to anyone."

"Yes, she will. It might be you instead of me, but she'll be loyal to someone." She bent down and kissed the side of his neck. "Off you go, Ethan."

****

Rachel looked up as Ethan came in. "Is this alright?" She waved her hand at her side of the room.

He looked it over. "Looks alright to me." He sat down on his bed. "Ryan was my brother."

Rachel sank to the edge of her bed. "Was? What happened?"

Ethan shrugged. "He was killed for being thought to lay with other men. The House Aledwen doesn't foster those sort of people." He looked up at her. "What is stupid is that he didn't do that. He never lay with anyone and they killed him for a mere rumor."

Rachel touched Ethan's knee. "I'll not disgrace his name. My honor on it."

Ethan gave her a watery smile. "Accepted." He sniffed hard and pointed at her folded clothing. "You should change for dinner."

Rachel looked at the clothing and then back to him. "You'll not be getting any service out of me, you know that, right?"

Ethan nodded. "There's House rules about that sort of thing. You're not to force another. If forced you are to report it as quickly as possible. If you kill the one attempting to force you no reprimand will befall you."

Rachel pulled down a tunic and leggings. "I'll remember." She shrugged into them quickly. "Is there anything I need to know for dinner?"

Ethan stood up. "Don't accept a challenge to the drinking games until you've at least watched them once. The wine is watered down, but still be careful of it." He held the door for her. "Don't start eating until the head table does."

She nodded as she went ahead of him.

****

Rachel flopped onto her bed with a groan. "I think I'm going to burst."

Ethan pulled his covers back. "If you do at least aim it at House Aledwen, yeah?"

Rachel made a rude gesture Ethan's direction and pulled off her tunic. "Why are you helping me?"

Ethan shrugged out of his tunic and pulled on a nightshirt. He pulled down his leggings and crawled into his bed. "I think the Lady is right when she says that we will go to war. I think House Aledwen will end up on the other side from us. You will survive such a war and I'll be right beside you so I can cut the head off Lord Aledwen, myself."

Rachel unbound her breasts and pulled on a sleeping tunic. "Why would I survive such a war? What is special about me?"

Ethan shifted under his covers. "I saw the footprints in the dirt of your old room. You'll survive."

Rachel stared at the moonlight coming in their tiny lone window until Ethan's snores lulled her to sleep.

****


End file.
